Savior
by chefAssassin
Summary: Rorschach saves a girl in an alley. Drawn to her, can he battle his beliefs to allow himself to get to know her? Rorschach/OC.
1. Chapter 1

I'm trying something different. One of the best characters ever created. He's complicated, has morals, has depth. We'll see where this goes.

*****************************************************************************************************************

I am sitting in a dark, dingy alley. A piece of wet newspaper clings to my bare foot. The savior is sprawled out in my lap.

Even though unconscious his grace astounds me. The steady rise and fall of his chest lets me know he is still alive. I measure my breaths to match his, why, I do not know.

More blood trickles down my thigh but I think I am okay. My shoulder hurts, but I am alive. I cradle my savior in my lap.

My fingers ache. _Take off the mask..._ my mind whispers. My fingers ache to take off his mask.

But no. I will not. I would be betraying his trust. He does not know me, but I will not do it. I itch to do it.

Instead I touch his face. My now dirty fingernails trace the ridges where his eyebrows would be, trailing down the lengthy ridge of his nose. I touch his ink and it feels warm. His cheekbones jut out but they are delicate somehow. I hope I do not wake him.

I like this. The mesmerizing dance of ink. Steady breathing. It is the most calm and peace that I have experienced in a long time.

He stirs. My hero stirs. A grunt. My heart flutters in my bruised chest.

He saved me.

A gloved hand reaches up to touch the back of his head. I bet his hair is matted with blood underneath. I find myself wondering what color his hair is. Are his eyes open yet? Open or closed.

He sighs and then goes completely rigid. He is now awake. His head cocks upward, toward my face. Then his hands shoot up immediately, checking.

"I didn't take it off." I croak, then clear my throat.

He does not say a word. His hands drop to his sides. He tries to get up.

"Be careful." I warn, hoping he does not hurt himself.

"Am always careful." He grounds out between clenched teeth, pulling himself up.

I sigh at the loss of warmth, the alley seems much colder.

"Is that why you got knocked out and ended up in my lap?" I shoot at him.

His head jerks sharply in my direction. I immediately regret my words. I can feel his eyes burning into me.

Heat flares, burning my face up. I must be as red as a lobster.

"I.. I didn't mean..." I begin.

He turns away. "Must go now." He says, a low growl. He is probably trying not to break my neck.

"Wait!" I yelp.

He reluctantly stops. Another raspy sigh, he turns back.

I bend down, wincing at the dull pain in my legs. I pick up a brown object.

My bad arm is holding it out to him. My lip curls up against the pain.

"Here." I say. "Your hat."

He looks at me, I can feel it. And I think it is the first time he really sees me. His eyes study the blush staining my cheeks, down to my neck, past my ripped, dirt smudged clothes, down to my fishnet stockings. He sees that I wear only one boot, the other is gone. Lost in the struggle. His eyes come back to my face.

He grunts. "Hurm." His gloved hand clenches into a fist before reaching out gingerly and taking the fedora.

"Thank you." I blurt out. "I can never really thank you enough."

My eyes find the pavement and study it.

"I believe in what you do." I whisper, shakily.

I hear his breathing slow.

"Go home." He rasps.

I nod, knowing he is right. I pick up my purse. I look at the men lying in various positions all around the alleyway.

One is crumpled on the ground, no human leg should be bent that way. One is face first dunked in a dumpster, blood soaking his shirt. One is slumped against a brick wall, beer bottle lodged in his face. Each villain, each lowlife, in a position befitting and becoming to their choices. Their evil.

But I save the last look only for him. I want to remember. Head tilted, his face shifts. His stance is confident. He takes one last look at me, pops his collar against the cold, and then turns.

The heels of his boots click and echo. When the sound fades, I go home.

***

Rorschach's Journal

_Filth everywhere. No escape. _

_Saved girl in alleyway. Rapists. Too late. Felt bad. But got what they deserved._

_Girl had red hair. Like a bloody sun. Green eyes. Knowing._

_Said believed in what I do._

_Confused. Felt bad for being too late. Rushed off._

_But followed her home. Just in case. I think her arm was dislocated._

_Intrigued. Did not think possible anymore._

_Goddamn vermin. They'll pay._


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you, everyone for the story alerts. But please, do not be afraid to review. Tell me what you think. I likes me some reviews, I'm addicted. Enjoy.

I do not own Watchmen. I cry at night.

***

Her arm had all but gone numb from the pain. It was dislocated. She knew it. She knew that she needed to pop it back into place. But she just could not bring herself to do it, afraid she might hurt herself, or not do it right. So it was, she left it. A day off work, there was no one who would notice her predicament. When she got paid tomorrow, she would go to the hospital, she rationalized.

Her day consisted of laying in her pajamas, eating the last remnants from her beloved carton of chocolate ice cream, cursing the television for not having anything requiring brain cells to watch, and trying not to aggravate her sensitive arm. A day well wasted.

Licking the last drop of ice cream from the back of the spoon, she sighed. _Must have more ice cream to further medicate arm... _she did not bother shrugging on her coat, her arm would no doubt protest. Venturing outside her apartment, she set out in search of ice cream.

Walking along the street, her mind drifted towards what she had fought against all day. Her hero. They call him Rorschach. Because of him, she was alive and well...well, mostly well. Nothing too bad. _Hell..._ she thought._ It did hurt._ She could not deny that.

But she was still here. And ice cream did still exist.

***

_Trudging back and forth. Sign held high. No one spares me passing glance. Long for night. For true face. For retribution. Woman meets my eyes. Stare back. It's her. My eyes hold hers, she does not flinch. Nods head. Her blazing red hair fans out in breeze. Her green eyes flash. I can't help but turn and watch her pass. I retreat to side of building, watch her enter grocery. I fade, blur into scenery. Am used to being invisible. Watch her. One arm held close to body. Still dislocated? Must hurt. Found other shoe. She does not know me. I follow her. Mind asks why. I ignore it for now. Do not know._

_***_

Chocolate mint ice cream in the bag, bounce in her step, she begins the voyage home to enjoy her spoils. She trots towards the newstand and smiles a genuine smile at the vendor. He rolls his cigar in his mouth and wags his eyebrows at her.

She shakes her head, laughing. Continues on.

***

_She smiles at sleazy newspaper vendor. Find myself wanting to break his nose. She has dimples._

***

Three blocks from her house, school children rush past her. The giggles pervade the air and she cannot help but join in. She tries not to trip as they run past, tagging each other.

Up ahead, she sees a little girl nearing an alleyway. Her bright purple dress flows around her small legs. _I used to have a purple dress..._ she smiles wistfully.

But then a man yanks the girl into the alleyway, clamping a hand over her mouth.

No one else sees. _But me._

Her smile fades into a grim, sober expression. Without thinking she runs. Fast. She nears the alley and turns, skidding to halt. She hears faint talking, sound of little sneakers scuffing the ground. A whimper.

***

_I see it. Little girl abducted. She sees it. She runs toward them. Stupid. No weapon. I turn and run to get face. Must hurry. _

***

She crouches behind a dumpster. Ice cream dropped. Melting, forgotten. Her hand searches the grimy ground for anything. Anything that she can use. Her hands skim across paper, wet ground, and finally... wood?

A baseball bat. Discarded most likely for all the chunks missing from it. Her good hands grips the handle. Splinters dig in. She does not care.

She peeks around the corner. The man is kneeling in front of the little girl. Her underwear is around her ankles.

Her good hand grips the bat harder. Knuckles turning white. Palm studded with splinters.

He has shoved something in her mouth to keep her quiet. The little girl is scared.

_Now._

She quickly leaps up from the dumpster, yelling.

"HEY!"

The monster turns, dumbfounded. He doesn't know what is about to hit him.

CRACK!

His body drops to the ground. Unconscious.

She runs to the little girl, then slows when the girl backs away like a frightened animal.

"Hey... shhh..." She approaches slowly. "I'm not going to hurt you, honey."

The little girl's watery eyes are wary. "I promise... I won't hurt you."

***

_Red. Red hits him good with baseball bat. He drops to ground with satisfying thump. Feel thrill go through me. Admiration? But he is not dead. But neither is little girl. Neither is Red._

_***_

She takes the dirty rag from the little girl's mouth. She helps her pull her little underwear up. They have kittens on them.

"It's okay. I'm sorry. It's okay. No one is going to hurt you now."

She strokes her tangled hair until the little girl's cries become hiccuping sobs.

"Do you know your way home?"

The little girl sniffs yes.

"Go straight home. Don't stop for anything or anyone."

***

_Throat tightens when little girl is helped to get dressed. Can't help it. Little girl runs from alley._

_Red stays._

_***_

She knows she should go home. She should turn and leave the alley. Mourn the loss of her ice cream. Relish the thought that she saved the little girl.

But what of the monster?

He still breathes. He'll get up. Go home. Nurse his sore head. Go back out on the streets. Find another little girl. This time one in a yellow dress. Polka dots on her underwear.

She cradles her bad arm. Bat still in hand, she shifts back and forth. She feels the weight of the bat in her hands. Sees the smear of blood on the grainy wood.

And she makes a decision. The decision of a lifetime.

The man stirs. He grunts and moans. And she knows it is not enough.

She nudges him with the bat. Pokes him in the ribs.

He rolls onto his back. His eyes blink. He sees her.

She knows she must look scary. Face set into a stony expression.

She asks him.

"So you like to rape little girls?"

Her voice is rigid. Steel. Velvet.

"Please. I didn't... didn't do anything to her." He whimpers. "It's not what you think."

***

_I watch. _

_***_

She tilts his chin up with the end of the bat.

"I said... you like to rape little girls?"

The man's adams apple bobs up and down. He swallows down the bile rising in his throat.

"I need help... call the cops. I admit I need help."

She looks at him. The way his statement does not reach his eyes. _The easy way out._

"I will help you." She says.

His eyes glisten. "Thank you..." He whimpers, smiling.

And she grits her teeth against the pain and takes the bat in both hands. She raises it above her head.

She sees the realization in his eyes.

The resounding crack should have been heard by everyone. But no one listens. No one cares. No one would help even if given the choice.

She bludgeons him in the head repeatedly. The sounds becomes wet. The bat becomes red.

Red like her hair.

She does not care about splinters. She does not care that her arm is on fire.

Tired. She drops to her knees beside the monster's body. And she cries.

And it is not for the monster that she does.

***

_I see everything. Intrigued is not right choice of word. Obsession imminent. Red. Seeing red._

_***_

Red is aware that someone has come into the alley. Dropped down from the fire escape. But it feels familiar. She sees black and white. Smells bad cologne and she knows it is him. The savior. Her arm is numb. Red feels herself being picked up. She leans into the warmth.

Drifting off, she wonders how she will get home.

Little does she know, he knows the way.

***

_Red would have fallen asleep in alley. Pick her up. Took home. Left body with rest of garbage. Fitting. Almost like poetry. Knew way to apartment like back of hand. Broke lock. Flimsy. Need better one. Not safe. Lay her on bed. Should have left. But arm would need attention after awake. Stay. Sit in chair. Her face looks softer when asleep. Resist urge to push strand of hair out of face. What is this? Not like me. Arms and chest feel alive where I carried her. Goddamnit. Face red. Red._

_***_

Red wakes to find a Rorschach sitting in a chair beside her bed.

"Hi." Is all she can think to say.

His lip quirks beneath the mask. He cannot remember the last time he smiled.

"Hello." His voice a low growl.

"You found me?"

Grunt of affirmation.

"How?"

"Followed you."

She smiles. Dimples appear. Rorschach's throat tightens.

"I killed him." Her smile disappears just as fast.

"Need fix arm."

She closes her eyes, nodding.

"I know. But I don't have the money to go to the hospital."

He snorts. She opens her eyes, looking at him. Amused.

His face flushes. His ink shifts abruptly. "I'll do it."

"Free of charge?" She laughs.

He gets up from the chair in one fluid motion. She holds her breath, again awed by his grace.

He tugs on the sleeve of her good arm, motioning for her to sit up. She winces, willing herself to move.

Once up, she waits expectantly. Arm stiff, cradled to her side.

Rorschach's hands tighten into fists, leather gloves creaking. _Can pulverize criminals but cannot bring self to touch girl._

He grunts and reaches his hands out, hesitating only once, before gently grasping her elbow and straightening her arm out. She holds her breath in anticipation.

"Will hurt." He grunts.

"I know." Her voice is small.

He jerks her arm quickly. The bone pops back into the socket. She bites her lip, preventing herself from crying out like she wants to. Her eyes water in response to the immense pain.

She feels stupid for crying.

_Red does not scream. Is stronger than thought._

She finally looks at him. Blood stains her lip where she bit it.

"Ow." She deadpans.

"Told you." He responds.

"That you did." She rolls her neck back and forth, working out the kinks.

"Thank you, again." She says meaningfully, her eyes seeking his behind the mask.

He sees admiration there in her eyes. And something else he cannot recognize. Pain, yes. But something else.

He nods his head curtly, not one to receive many thanks.

She suddenly cries out. He jerks, looking around the room.

_No intruders? What._

He looks back.

"I dropped my ice cream. In the alley." She admits sheepishly.

Crestfallen, she stands up. Stretching, her legs crack.

He watches her, bewildered. "Hurm." _Know no one who laments loss of ice cream. Investigate further?_

His eyes follow her movement of her stretch. Her arms extended up, her eyes closed, the curve of her spine, and her shirt. He notices that her shirt is riding up. Rorschach glimpses bare skin. He quickly averts his eyes. Face hot, he battles the fluttering in his stomach.

_Hope she did not notice. What is wrong with me? No better than sleazy men who ogle whores on corner._

She does not notice.

"Food." She states.

His head lifts up to look at her. He likes food. Has not eaten in 2 days. His stomach growls audibly.

Smiling, she affirms. "Food."

He follows her form into the kitchen. Hovering in the doorway, he watches her cook.

Cold beans would have been fine with him.

But she dashes around. Frying chicken, shredding it. Sprinkling cheese on tortillas.

_Sharp cheddar. Mouth waters._

_Melts cheese on tortilla in pan. Sprinkles shredded chicken over. Hums as she cooks. Do not recognize song._

She folds over tortillas and piles them high on a plate.

_Been so long since had good meal. Beans in can. Cereal from Dan's. Whatever can get._

He lifts the mask up to take a bit. He knows that she is watching his lips. He is painfully aware.

He cannot help the wave of pleasure that rips through him as he eats the food.

She smiles.

"You like it!" She gushes.

He grunts in acknowledgement, too busy eating food.

_Eats one. Lets me have rest. Her eyes never leave my exposed scrap of skin. Self conscious. Replace mask after eating. I do not say thank you. Feel bad for not._

Without saying anything she goes back into her bedroom. Rorschach follows.

She reclines on the bed. He opts for the chair.

"You know..." She begins, clearing her throat. Nervous. "I just want you to know that if you ever..."

She pauses. Her eyebrows scrunch up as she thinks whether she wants to say it or not.

_Like way her eyebrows meet when deep in thought. Looks honest. Remember look on face when she ended child rapist's life. Feel hot lick of something in stomach. Unfamiliar. Must be food. _

"Look, I appreciate all that you've done for me. I... I really like having you here. Don't be weirded out, but anytime you need a place to stay. My place is open for you."

Her eyes lock on to his mask.

"Anytime you need it. My food too."

He is shocked to say the least.

_Do not understand what this is. Pity? No. Her eyes too wide open to suggest pity. She does not feel sorry for me. Am not used to this. Find urge to accept offer. Why?_

She watches his mask for some sort of reaction. Nearly impossible.

Barely audible. "Thank you."

Her eyes widen. "You are most welcome."

They sit together in silence.

She falls asleep. He watches over her.

_Cannot figure Red out. Should be out. Patrolling. Cannot bring self to leave._

_***_

Late at night. Red wakes up out of a dream. Her chest heaves in and out. She looks to see Rorschach is still in his chair. _His chair?_

"Rorschach?" She whispers into the dark of the room. "Are you awake?"

He does not answer. Does not stir. His head rests on his shoulder.

She says all of this into the darkened room:

"I want you to know. When I was little, about 7. My dad died. He was a good man, my favorite man. My superhero. Shot in the head by a mugger. A year later, my mom remarried. I did not like him. He smelled like alcohol 24/7. He looked at me weird sometimes.

My mom let him do whatever he pleased just to keep him with her, around always. 3 months into the marriage, it started to happen. He would come into my room late at night. He would whisper to me. Hold my arms down. Touch me. Touch himself.

No matter how much I told him to stop, he wouldn't. He'd call me names, tell me that no one would believe me. He'd call me a slut. I was ashamed. I wouldn't make friends in fear that they would find out what a bad person I was. And the worse thing about it... She knew. The entire time she knew.

I remember one night when he came to visit me, I looked through the crack he left in my door. And there she was. She made eye contact, averted her eyes, went into the bathroom, flushed the toilet, and then made her way back into her room. She didn't help me...I hated her. I missed my dad. So when I turned 17, I went to my mom. I told her that I hated her. Never wanted to see her again.

I got a job as a librarian. Stayed in motels until I got my own place, this place. And here I am. I still think to myself sometimes. How come my mom didn't love me? Was I not worth being loved? Not worth it to be cared for, protected? And then I realized, she was NOT my mother. No mother would do that to their child. I don't miss her.

And today. Killing that monster in the alley. He reminded me so much of my step dad and my mom..."

Red started sobbing now.

"It felt good..." She whispered reluctantly.

"I just wanted you to know that." She wiped her eyes, blinked a few times, then closed them.

She drifted back to sleep.

Rorschach heard all of it. His heart twisted. His mind raced.

_So many similarities. Mother. Anger. Vermin. Thought I was asleep. Heard everything. Throat constricting. Want to hunt down stepfather. Make him drink his own blood until he vomits. Protect her. _

Red had known he was awake. Had counted on it.

***

He waited a few more hours. Finally worked up the nerve and swept the strand of hair from her face. She moaned in her sleep, leaning into the touch. His hand recoiled as if burned. Unused to response.

_Not so bad. Not dirty like thought it would feel._

Then he left, this time using the window. Anxious, he found, to see Red again.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you for reviewing! Reviews make me squeal. Here goes nothing! Let me know what you think. Suggestions?

********************************************************************************************************************************

Red found herself anticipating the nightly visits from her savior. They became more and more frequent. She would go to work at the library, come home at night, make dinner (enough for the both of them), and like clockwork he would slip in through the window at eleven.

Sometimes they talked. Well, she did most of the talking. But he did answer her whenever she asked him something. His one or two word responses were slowly but surely becoming more lengthy and elaborate.

Sometimes they just sat together. Red figured the silence would be awkward but it was the exact opposite. She would read, watch tv, make dinner. And he would sit as still as a statue, apart from his head following her movements.

Normally, someone staring at her gave Red a sense of unease. But his piercing gaze was quickly becoming familiar to her. Sometimes, when she was walking home from she felt it. It was less intense, but she could sense that he was watching over her. Quite possibly, protecting her?

And it was no different this night. Red had just left the store, juggling grocery bags from hand to hand. Hurrying, she rushed home to get a headstart on dinner. Smiling, she thought of how much Rorschach enjoyed her food. To her, it was the highest of compliments.

Four top knots began tailing her, and it was not lost upon her. She felt the sharp prickle of their gaze at the back of her neck. She quickened her pace in the hopes that she would lose them before getting to her apartment. She definitely did not want them to see where she lived.

But they did not let up. Their boots clomped after her. _Can't believe this. I'm a danger magnet. Can I go one day without being mugged or assaulted?_

***

_Can't believe it. Vermin tailing her. Can she not go one day without being in distress? _

_I sigh. Well, I do get exercise. If ever need find bad guys, can just look for Red._

_I drop down from the roof top. Silent. Hands tighten into fists. No one touches her._

_***_

Red rounded the corner. Two more blocks and she would be home. She sighed. If she was going to do something, it would have to be now. A block away, she stopped just past the last alley. She turned around abruptly.

There was no one. _Uhh, where'd they go?_

Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. A gruff chuckle leaked from the alley. She knew that sound.

She peeked around the corner. A tall, broad shouldered figure towered over the bodies of the four top knots. She shook her head.

"I should have known. Rorschach." She nodded, venturing farther into the alley.

"Red." He inclined his head, straightening the collar of his brown leather jacket.

A thrill went through her as she heard his nickname for her fall from his lips. He had never asked her real name. It was fine, she was Red to him. It was nice to be that just for him.

She batted her eyelashes at him. "Oh! I just don't know what I'd do if you weren't here all the time, saving me from the dangers of the big city." She smirked.

"Maybe if wore less makeup and revealing clothing would look less like prostitute and would be less of target." He stated, popping a sugar cube into his mouth.

She stared at him, wide eyed, before breaking out in light laughter.

He shifted from foot to foot, his arms crossing his chest in almost in defense of his statement.

_Laughter sounds like tinkling of bells. Soothing. _

"I love your honesty. But I don't really consider my work skirt and blouse revealing. And besides..." She eyed his face. "I shouldn't have to change myself... just so I won't be_ a target_."

_Never compromise..._

She was always doing this to him. Taking his beliefs and spinning them on their axis. Proving him right and wrong at the same time. He always believed things were black and white. Good and bad. But this girl... _Girl is frustrating. Hair may be red but she tells me things are grey. Confusing._

She saw his head quirk to the side. She knew this meant he was deep in thought, so she decided to change the subject.

"So, are you coming over now? Or should I wait a little while to start making dinner?"

He snapped out of his reverie. His mouth watered. Her food was bound to turn him into a glutton if he did not watch himself. He always had to watch himself around her. But that had not stopped him from coming back.

"Not now. Must patrol." Chomp, chomp, chomp go his teeth against the sugar cube.

He saw her face drop for a second before it was back up again. He felt an unfamiliar feeling at her momentary lapse of emotion. He pushed it aside for later analysis.

"There are other accident prone red heads that need saving?" She quipped.

His face cracked beneath his mask. Another smile.

"That's just you." He replied, voice low.

"Was that you engaging in banter with me? I think I might faint." She smiled, face lighting up.

"Am going now." He said, turning to go. He did not wait for her reply.

She smiled a secret smile. Then she went home to make dinner.

***

He got there later than anticipated. She had left the window open for him, like she did every night. He climbed the fire escape up to her window and shouldered his way in.

He could hear clanging coming from the kitchen and knew exactly where to find her.

He watched, the kitchen doorway framing his body. She was seated at the table.

"There you are." She said without turning around.

_How'd she know? Silent approach._

"I can feel you watching me." She explained.

She neglected to say how much she liked it when he did. So much time spent invisible, it was nice for someone to notice her. But she knew how conservative he was. He would never think of her like that. Ever.

He huffed and went to sit down across from her. _Must practice stealth._

She smiled warmly at him, got up and went to the stove, and came back with kettle full of soup. She ladled the soup into two bowls. His mouth watered instantly.

"Ham and potato soup." She clarified.

She watched him, like she always did, as he peeled his mask upward towards his nose.

She ate a few bites of soup, trying to concentrate on eating. But her eyes always found his mouth. Watching him as he took bites from his spoon. The way his teeth would sometimes come out to bite and his lips wrapped around the swell of the spoon. She shook her head, physically shaking the thoughts from her head. _What's wrong with me?_

But her mind always found its way back to his exposed skin. After seeing his mask all the time, it was fascinating. The square of his chin. The straightness of his teeth, almost as straight as his rigid posture. His lips thin, but nice.

_He'd never see me again if he knew how much I think about him. I learned that much. The way he talks of women and prostitutes. Unforgiving. Relentless. Black and white. He avoided all talk of his family. Perhaps his rigid beliefs stemmed from there. Was this some sort of hero syndrome? Do I think of him that way because he saved me? No, saves me. Again and again. _

He could feel her eyes on his lips again. His belly did flip flops as her eyes slid towards his mouth again and again. He was becoming uncomfortable. Hot underneath. He quickly sucked what was left of his soup from his bowl with a loud SLUUURP.

She looked at him, dumbfounded. Then she laughed, delighted.

"Wow, the vigilante eats like a three year old."

He blushed beneath his face. "Not three." He sulked.

She was curious. "How old are you, exactly?"

Her eyes watched his lips. He had not replaced his face yet. He did not know why.

"Old."

He was curious. "And you?"

She smiled. "I'm 20."

He was shocked, lips pursed into a thin line. Her eyes caught the movement.

_So young. Dimples. Was too late in alley. Dimples. Blazing hair. Pretty. Pretty? Where did that come from? So young. Feel like dirty old man. But I don't want that. Could never feel that. For anyone. For her? Best leave._

He scooted his chair back abruptly.

"Hey, wait. Don't go. Did I say something?" She rushed in front of him to intercept him.

He stopped, sighing. Again her eyes watched him, he noticed. His hands went up to his face and pulled it back down over his chin.

And she made a decision. A life altering one.

"Wait." She breathed.

She comes closer and he feels that he should maybe run.

Her hands go toward the edge of his mask. He immediately stiffens up. She holds her breath.

Two words.

"Trust me."

He held his breath.

Her hands gently curled the edge of his mask up over his neck and chin. His hands almost went up to stop her going any farther. But she stopped at his nose. _Trust me she said._

She saw his adams apple work furiously up and down.

And she did it.

She lifted up onto the tip of her toes... he was tall after all. And she pressed her lips to his.

He froze in place. He did not move a muscle. Electricity licked his spine.

All he could think was: _Soft. _

He could smell her. Sweet and dangerous.

She pressed her lips more insistently against his and he told himself that this was not bad.

It certainly did not feel bad. _Not wrong...not so bad._

He felt her tongue lick against his bottom lip and he jumped back, knocking his chair over.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She blurted out. "Wait!"

But it was no use. He yanked his mask down over his face and ran out of the kitchen.

She raced after him only to see his graceful form leap from the window.

Tears spilled over her eyelashes. She blinked them out of the way.

She knew she had crossed the line with him and she felt a sense of dread.

Dread because she knew she may not be able to fix things.

She could not forget his taste.

_Tangy... but faintly sweet. Must be the sugar cubes..._

***

Rorschach paced back in forth.

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Got too close!_

His fist lashed out and slammed against the brick wall of the alleyway.

_Felt things. Should not have. _

He shook his head, pacing again. Prowling like a cat.

_So young. So goddamn young. So good. Pure. Red._

_Lips soft. Red. Pressure. Friction. Hot lick of tongue._

He groaned. He struggled.

Fighting the urge to go back to her apartment.

_Red..._


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you for all the reviews, keep them coming! And do yourself a favor... go to youtube and look up "I Love Rorschach." Here goes nothing. Enjoy.

******************************************************************************************************

The silence was deafening... then:

"Where the hell have you been?" She whispered.

He flinched. She was angry. Sad angry.

"Busy." Was all he could think to say.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Busy?" She scoffed. "Two weeks."

He intently studied his shoes.

"Too busy to drop in? Let me know you were okay?!" Her voice gained in volume with each word.

"Christ, Rorschach. Two weeks... I thought you were dead." She whispered, her eyes wet.

He saw the tears and he felt even worse. He found that he did not like being the reason she cried.

He took a few cautious steps forward. His hand slowly went to her shoulder.

"Sorry." He finally said. "Not dead, don't cry."

Her hand came up and rested atop his. She waited for it. The moment where he would run. The moment never came.

He swallowed audibly.

Then she pulled herself to him and trapped him in a tight hug. He smelled of faint cigarette smoke, wet streets, and something else... something that was just him. She had missed him.

Red had him in a vice grip. Her arms around him were foreign but ... pleasant. She felt soft against him. She did not let him go, but her arms loosened their tight grip once she realized he was not going to run. His rigid posture eventually relaxed into the embrace.

"I'm... sorry." She hiccuped into his chest.

He felt her tremors and they irritated his wound. She heard his pained gasp. She pulled back and looked at him.

That is when she felt the hot stickiness of blood staining her shirt.

"You're hurt." Her eyes blazed. "Lay down on the bed."

She tugged on his sleeve urgently, leading him over to her bed.

His eyes drooped. He felt tired, sluggish.

"I'll go get some stuff to clean you up with... um... you should take off your shirt so I can see the wound better." She blushed. "I know... that... you're not comfortable ...but from the looks of it you've lost a lot of blood."

With that she ran to her bathroom.

He sighed, shaking his head. He shrugged out of his trench coat, laying it on the chair beside the bed. He went to take off his scarf... but hesitated. His face grew hot and uncomfortable.

He did not know if he could handle being shirtless in front of Red. _But need help. Need fixed up. Will have to bear it._

He grit his teeth and tugged his scarf free. He hastily undid the buttons of shirt and sat back down upon the bed.

She came back out and skidded to a stop. He watched her from behind his face.

Her eyes swept down his chest, her expression unreadable. He shifted restlessly on the bed.

She snapped out of it and came towards the bed. She layed the items out. Towels, alcohol, and gauze.

She eyed his wound with sad eyes. A slash, six inches long, halfway down his ribcage. It looked red and angry.

"Lay back." She ordered gently, placing a towel behind him.

He did what he was told, carefully leaning back until he hit the bed.

Red took a small wet towel and gently swiped the blood away from his wound. He watched her face as she worked, not once registering pain. Her stern look of concentration almost made him smile. Her eyebrows knit together as she daintily clean his wound. _Trying not to hurt me._

The wound looked a lot smaller once she cleaned the sticky blood away from his chest. It was a thin line. She pondered how so much blood could come from such a tiny wound.

"This might hurt." She warned, as she prepared the alcohol.

He said nothing.

The wound burned where the alcohol drenched it and he made no movement. No sound.

She patted the wound dry and placed gauze over the slash, taping it. Her hands smoothed the tape down and he felt his eyes flutter closed.

Her hands lingered a little too long and she reluctantly removed them. He almost sighed at the loss.

She eyed his chest from the corner of her eye. He was small but lithe. Well defined, most likely from his nightly excursions. She felt a faint blush creep up, invading her cheeks. She hoped he did not notice.

He lay still on her bed, slender form breathing gracefully.

"So..." She began. "I see you're a red head."

He startled, flushing. His hand automatically went for his shirt.

"Just like me." She said happily, smiling.

His hand stopped.

"Not like you." He finally said.

Her smile faded. Her eyes dropped to look at the floor.

"Yours... more like a ruby." He confessed.

She looked up, eyes widening. She smiled a big smile.

"Red is red." She stated. "Yours is just as nice."

Her hand touched his chest before she could stop herself, combing through the rust colored hair.

He gasped. Her hand recoiled as if burned.

"Ss...sorry." Her eyes avoided him. "I just... forget..."

She felt his gloved hand grab hers. She tried to pull away, wanting to run away. Feeling rejected.

He pulled her back to the bed, placing her hand back on his chest.

She stayed completely still. There was no sound but their breathing.

She felt his heart hammering beneath his chest. Her fingers splayed out against him.

_Soft._

His hand left hers and returned to his side. He fought to control his breathing, his heart beat. She took the opportunity given to her. She turned more towards him, scooting closer for better access. Her hands touched him tentatively at first, making sure he would not change his mind and flee. She gained more confidence and explored him. Chest, stomach, sides. His eyes fluttered closed as her hands touched him.

There was nothing filthy about the way she touched him. It was almost... worship. The way she touched him, looked at him.

Her hands traveled up, up, up towards his neck. They stopped there, caressing, massaging.

Her mind whispered to her. Bold things. Things that would feel good. She tried in desperation to silence them. But they all sounded insanely tempting.

She figured she should at least try. He had let her touch him, why not this? So she dipped her head to his neck and breathed in. Then she placed a chaste kiss at the crook of his neck.

Electricity jolted through his body, he almost fell off the bed. His hands clenched into fists so he would not grab her.

_Am going to hell..._

He slowly turned his head to the side, granting her better access. She placed feather-light kisses all the way up the edge of his mask and back down again. Then she opened her mouth and licked tentatively, tasting his sweat.

He groaned, biting his lip.

She felt her stomach tighten in response. _God, that sound..._

He struggled to stay still. Struggled against his mind and body yelling at him. Telling him conflicting things.

_Bad... Goood... Wrong... Very right... Red. Red. Red. This girl killing him._

She sucked gently, trying not to hurt him or leave a mark, savoring the sounds he was making.

His hand went to his mask even though his mind screeched at him not to.

He pulled it up to his nose, breathing in fresh air. Breathing in Red.

Then his hands came up to her shoulders, stilling her movements. She looked up at him, eyes hazy, lips swollen.

_This must be beauty..._

His lips crashed down on hers. Lips slid against lips, warm and smooth.

His brain shut down, quiet for the moment.

He devoured her sighs, pulling her on top of him.

She placed her hands on both sides of his head, supporting herself.

Her chest heaved in and out, pressing and retreating from his. The temperature increased.

His teeth came out and gently nibbled her bottom lip. She could not stop the moan that escaped.

His insides twisted. His pants got tighter. He found a desperate urge to make her make that sound again.

Overwhelmed, he flipped their bodies, switching places. She gasped as her back hit the bed.

She wished she could see his eyes.

His kissed her again and she opened her mouth against his. Tentative, his tongue slipped in. She tasted like spiced hot chocolate.

He grunted as their tongues touched. Hot and slick.

Her arms circled his neck, pulling him closer. She could not get enough of him. Her mind was telling her this was all a dream, this would never happen. But his weight on top of her told her different.

She had missed him.

The tightness in his pants got worse, bordering on painful. He felt hot. He decided they should slow down, stop. Catch their breath. His loss of blood caught up with him. He felt woozy.

He was the first to pull back. Her eyes watched him intensely. He rolled off of her, laying on his back.

She rolled over too, laying on her side next to him.

"I did miss you." She whispered to him. His head turned towards her, regarding her.

"Me too." His voice like gravel.

She scooted closer to him, nestling into his side. She tossed her arm over him, gently resting her head on his chest.

She listened as his heart beat slowed, the effect hypnotizing. Her eyelids drooped.

"Don't disappear again..." She whispered to him in the darkness of the room.

He swallowed down his heart.

"Never." He rumbled deep in his chest.

Then she drifted into sleep. His mind and body reeling, he followed soon after.


	5. Chapter 5

Isn't it funny how life gets in the way of things you really care about? My deepest apologies for taking so long. Expect more from me now. Promise.

*************************************************

Red rolled over in her sleep, whimpering as she did not find the warmth she sought. One eye cracked open, squinting against the light that barged in so rudely from her bedroom window. She grunted, snapping the eye shut against the sobering light of day.

She felt cold... _Rorschach._

Her eyes snapped open just as fast as they had closed. Her neck cracked audibly as she looked around. No Rorschach.

Her heart dropped into her stomach with a resounding thunk.

"A dream..." Red whispered, her hand coming up to comb through her tangled mass of red hair. "A fucking dream."

Dejected, she flund herself back onto the bed, head landing dangerously close to the headboard. She could not help but be extremely angry at her brain for tricking her. Crafting such a vivid, maddening... albeit completely hot dream.

Her eyes rolled up to stare accusingly at her brain. "I should kill you."

She could almost smell him still... her mind was torturing her.

She cried out in frustation and rolled over, burying her face in the pillow. The strange, unexpected sound of paper crinkling tickled her ears.

She sat up and looked down at the pillow, spotting a small sheet of paper, folded in half.

Her eyebrows knitted together and she gently opened the paper. It was _his_ small, stern writing.

_"Could not stay._

_Try to keep out of trouble._

_See you tonight."_

Her heart clawed its way up from her stomach and burst out of her chest, much like a horror movie creature. She smiled._ Not a dream..._

She got ready for work, not complaining once. Anxious for the night to come.

***

_Woke up feeling weight on chest. Red. Senses flared. Panic slowly faded. Kisses. Adrenaline rushed through body. Torn. Feels... nice. Should feel wrong. Managed to get up from bed without waking Red. Her face looked young, softer in sleep. Swallowed down heart, wrote note, and left._

***

Her feet hurt. No matter how long she had worked in the library, she could not get used to being on her feet all day.

But she liked being around books. Liked everything about the library. The musty book smell pervading the air. Helping children research their history essay, their science project. All with a smile. It used to be her only escape from the world. Her refuge.

But now Red found herself anticipating her return home for the day. She finally had something to look forward to that wasn't a new book, a new recipe, a new television program. She had something solid. Something tangible. Someone. Her very own someone.

Her coworkers watched her suspiciously. Something was very wrong with this girl. _No one in their right mind smiles that much_, they thought to themselves. Discussed over coffee. Shook their heads as she passed.

Red said her goodbyes to her increasingly befuddled coworkers, and then she left. Not looking back, she walked home as fast as she could.

Her breath came fast, her hands shook.

_God, I haven't even seen him yet and I'm already hyperventilating. I need help._

The sleazy newspaper vendor noticed her approach.

"Hey doll, why the rush? You alright?"

She smiled. "No. I'm great."

He watched her jog past. He shook his head, and went back to reading. Ranting about the headlines in the newspaper to anyone who would listen.

***

He hadn't come yet. Dinner was getting cold. And he hadn't come yet. She worried like a girl whose husband had left for war. And it was a war. She flung herself on her bed. _He probably just got tied up. Fighting bad guys. All this anticipation and he might not even show up tonight._

_But he said he would._

Her brain tumbled scenarios around and around. But she finally came to a conclusion, half asleep, that he was a big vigilante... that he could take care of himself. He would show up.

But she was tired. And sleep won out. Red drifted off, knowing she would wake up. And he'd be there. Because he said he would be.

***

_Was late. Lots of activity tonight. Excited to fight but increasingly angry at each perp for stealing time with Red. Nervous. Embarrassed. Was an animal last night. Apologize. For being late. And being an animal. Filthy. I look up. Her window a beacon. Elevating me from the filth, the streets, reality._

_***_

Red is lying on her bed. Breathing slow but steady. She shifts from lying on her belly, rolling over, ending up on her back. She sighs a loud sigh and is still. Rorschach wonders if she is one of those people who shifts positions throughout the entire night. Right side, belly, left side, back. Repeat. He sleeps one way. On his back. He is a light sleeper.

He slips quietly into the kitchen, spotting a covered plate and a note.

_Rorschach._

_Busy night fighting crime? Just as well._

_I had a busy night fighting bloodthirsty librarians. _

He smiles.

_I made you dinner. But I was tired._

_Hope to see you when I wake up..._

_-Red_

Plate of food forgotten, he makes his way back to the bed.

He stands at the foot of the bed, feeling alien. He wants to lie down next to her. Crawl in between the sheets and press himself against her. Feel her warmth. But he does none of these things.

He goes to his chair and tries to sit without making it creak too much. He wants her to wake up feeling safe.

***

"Did you eat?"

He grunts, sitting up. Forcing himself awake he looks towards Red.

She is sitting up on the bed in her pajamas. Her hair is pointing every which way.

But he can't help but catch his breath because she is still beautiful. The light coming in from the window makes her hair glow a fiery red.

The light...daylight! He jumps up from the chair.

"It looks as if Cinderella has missed her curfew." Red chirps.

He whirls back to look at her. She is smiling, not a hint of malice in her eyes. She is not mocking him.

"Guess you're gonna have to spend your entire day with me..." She sighs dramatically.

"I could just take my costume off and walk outside like a normal man." He states.

"And go outside naked?" She laughs. "You could borrow some of my clothes, but people might question your orientation."

He doesn't know whether to scream at her, laugh, or leave.

"Are you insinuating that I am a..." He gulps. "...homosexual."

She bursts out laughing, flinging herself back on her rumpled bedsheets, holding her insides together.

"I sure... hope... you're not." She gasps out in between breathless laughs.

Rorschach bristles.

"Hey now, wait." She stops laughing, instantly serious. "I was just joking with you."

She slowly gets off the bed, approaching him like she would approach a frightened animal. Cautious.

He eyes her, then turns away abruptly.

Nearing closer. "I'm sorry, Rorschach. I did not mean to hurt you. That's the last thing I want to do to you." _Believe me. The list is a long one._

Silence.

"Am not a homosexual." He says quietly.

She forces down any threatening laughs. "I know you aren't. I can tell by the way you kiss me."

She notices that his breathing stops. _Okay, steer away from that topic._

"Rorschach, how many noses have you broken?" She questions.

He turns back around, quirking his head to the side.

"Odd question." He growls.

"I wonder a lot of things about you. What size shoe you wear. Your favorite flavor of ice cream. Including how many noses and limbs you've broken and the color of your eyes."

He can't believe this girl thinks this much about him. He finds it odd. He finds it flattering.

"But for now, Rorschach, I'd just like to know how many noses you've broken. Please." Red stops, sucking in a breath.

"Is this twenty questions?" He smiles beneath the mask.

She grins. "Is it more than 27 noses but less than 100?"

He chuckles and it is music to her ears.

"More than 100? Good god, man. That's a lot of noses. I admire you."

"Do you always joke, Red?" He asks.

Her smile fades.

"If I can't smile and laugh, then why live?" She asks him.

She comes closer and grabs his hands. He fights the reflex to tear his hands away. This girl does not want to hurt him. Has no intentions. Of hitting him or abandoning him. So he lets her.

His knees hit the back of the bed until he collapses, sits on the edge.

"But sometimes, Rorschach, I am known to be very serious..." Her face floats inches from his. Her eyes burning, trying to find him beneath his ink.

Her face darts forward. She rubs her cheek against his. Back and forth, reminding him of the cats in the alleyways. They rub against his pant legs, meowing for his help. His affection. She nuzzles his face, his neck. And he grows increasingly hot beneath his face. He is not used to being touched but he likes this. A little too much.

Her mouth brushes against his mask, across his cheekbones, along his chin, until she finds his mouth. She kisses him. His mouth beneath the mask, and it drives him mad. Her breath hot against his clothed lips. There, but not on his skin. Almost enough... but not quite.

He wills her with his mind to pull off his mask. He wants her to kiss him. See him. Kiss the skin of his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, his forehead. He hopes she can hear his thoughts. His gloved hand goes to hers, bringing it up to the edge of his face and let's go. Her hand goes up to his shoulder, caressing. He grunts his frustration. _How can she stand this?_

_Filthy._

"Red." His voice husky, his hands come up to her shoulders.

She pulls him closer.

"Red, Red." He growls, trying to still her movements. "Stop."

She immediately stops, pulling back. Her eyes hazy. "I'm sorry." She says quietly.

"No." His hands drop from her shoulders. "I'm sorry."

Her eyebrows knit together. "For what?"

"For being late."

She smiles, shaking her head. "Is that _all_?"

"For being an animal." He grits out between clenched teeth, his head hanging in shame.

She does not know what to say.

"Rorschach..." She rests her hands around his neck.

"You are not an animal." She states.

He stares at his shoes, his hands clenched at his sides.

"Hey! Look at me." She lifts his head up.

"You are _not_ filthy." She places a kiss on his upturned forehead.

"You do not have to be sorry because you aren't filthy. You aren't. This isn't. What we have. It's not like those people you see on the corner. It's not my stepfather." Her eyes water. "It's not my mom. We are not filthy. And if you are sorry about kissing me or liking me... then you're insulting me."

She finishes, her voice tinged with an air of finality. She takes three steps back from him letting her rant sink in.

"I'm not sorry." She whispers.

He watches Red take a few steps back. He feels an odd pulling sensation. As if something was attached to the both of them. Where she goes, he wants to follow.

He stands up. He takes three steps towards her.

His hands reach up to tangle in her hair. He breathes her in.

"Not sorry." He mumbles into her hair. She lets loose the breath she was holding in.

Her arms wrap around him. "I'm glad."

She grabs the hat off his head and running she jumps on the bed, nonchalantly placing the hat on her head.

He thinks it looks good on her. But he does not say so.

"You confuse me." He gruffs.

"Thank you." Red says sincerely.

He reaches out, head inclining towards her. "Give the hat back."

"And why should I?" She teases.

"Because it's mine." He insists.

"Nice vigilantes share their things." She admonishes.

"I'm not nice." He counters.

"Liar." She sings.

"Am not." He growls.

"Prove it." Her eyes widen.

He fidgets.

Red crosses her arms in front of her chest. Waiting.

His gloves creak as he begins to stalk towards her, stepping up gracefully onto the bed to halt right in front of her. For the millionth time she forgets to breathe. Staring, he does nothing.

"You're not... going to break my nose are you?" She whispers.

Amused, he whispers. "No."

"Good." She states.

Rorschach moves forward and she retreats until the back of her legs hit the headboard, shoulder blades against the wall. He leans in and breathes in. Exhales as if smoking a cigarette.

Her eyes flutter closed as his words reach her ears.

"I don't know why... I don't know." He murmurs to himself.

"W..what?" She stammers.

She feels his hands grip her small hips and she fights back a gasp.

"I want to... be nice to you." A soft, growling admission.

She bites her lip and opens her eyes. She looks at this man, this masked man. And she cannot help herself.

"I'd like that." She admits shakily.

He does not know what to think. He does not know if he is thinking. On the edge, adrenaline pumps through his veins. Even moreso than when he is fighting. He wants to run and he wants to stay. His fingertips trace her delicate hipbones, peeking out from the top of her pants. She is so small, breakable. _Delectable._

Her skin is pale. Flawless, perfect in his eyes. His hand glides across the soft skin of her belly, delighting in her sudden intake of breath.

"Why do I feel this?" His voice cracks.

Her hands cover his. One on her hip, one resting on her belly.

"I don't know. I really don't." She whispers. "But I feel so goddamn lucky."

He looks up, searching her eyes.

"You have no idea." She admits.

The hand on her belly retreats to pull his mask up to his nose. Red shivers in anticipation.

"I'm not going to kiss you yet." He grunts.

She lets out a small moan of protest. _But why?_

His hands go to the buttons of her sleep shirt. He wills his hands not to shake.


End file.
